You’re planning a trip around the world. Great. Now get ready, because everyone is going to say they want to go with you. Literally. Everyone.
It’s amazing. It’s flattering. And it’s even more annoying than gonorrhea.
People you can’t get to commit to museum on a rainy Saturday will suddenly invite themselves to meet you in China. You just have to tell them you’re going, and they’ll ask when. Try it.
Or maybe don’t. You might not want them there. The question of who to involve in your journey is a messy salad of pros and cons. Tap the thumbnail to check ‘em out:
| PRO | CON |
|---|---|
| Having someone to do stuff with. | Having to do their stuff. |
| Someone to talk to. | Less reason to make new friends. |
| Someone to care for you when you get food poisoning. | Having care for someone when they get food poisoning. |
| Someone to watch your stuff while you pee at the airport. | Actually, no con here. It’s just awesome. |
Mark Twain famously noted that “There is no surer way to find out whether you like people than to travel with them.” Everyone knows this, and everyone knows that everyone knows this, yet it remains one of those charming quips people sprinkle into conversation like a shiny new pearl of first-hand wisdom.
Bottom line: You learn a lot about someone by the way they trot the globe. You learn even more — maybe too much — when you’re on an overnight sleeper car to Karachi with no air conditioning and they have volcanic diarrhea.
Proceed thoughtfully.
If your travel style matches someone else’s — meaning you equally like to plan or wander — that’s great. If your patience outweighs your intolerance for discomfort, even better. You’ll certainly fare better when you discover the former isn’t as true as you thought.
Before you agree to a long journey with anyone, have a conversation about the pain points of travel and how you’ll cope with them individually and together.
Here are the main hazards I’ve identified:
This isn’t about eating breakfast alone; it’s about one person being stuck in the lurch or being left to do the dirty travel admin.
On mornings with early departures, for example, the early riser will find him or herself already showered, packing bags, stripping the beds, checking out, getting the coffee, waiting, getting pissed off and planning where to stash their dismembered companion’s body during the expensive taxi they hadn’t planned to take to the station because they were running out of time to catch the train.
If your person is the kind of person who hits snooze endlessly and resists getting out of bed (or if you are), then behavior needs to change. If not, you need to plan around that.
Someone seeking a year of leisure is going to frustrate the road warrior who wants to see as much as they possibly can in 12 months.
Discuss your goals in advance. If they differ, plan parallel itineraries that suit both people equally, and adapt if either party (or both) grows less accommodating over time.
You don’t necessarily have to. How much does each of you mind tagging along? Some people list their interests and attack them like Arya Stark, which is awesome when the other person is down for whatever. But if Traveler A loves street food and Traveler B is a picky eater, then Whitney Houston, we have a problem.
I once went to Australia with one of my very best friends who shops the way some people do Crossfit without telling her I really don’t enjoy shopping. By the end I was penning Marxist essays and cursing Coco Chanel into hellfire.
Fortunately, I found this great motorcycle jacket, some insane chocolate from Haigh’s, a new pair of sunglasses, sexy underpants, cologne, swim trunks, sneakers, tons of pawpaw ointment and some beautiful Aboriginal paintings.
Seriously though, I hate shopping.
The few belongings backpackers carry are precious. If you’re on the express train and realize your microfiber towel is still hanging on the hook behind the door of the dorm you just left, you’re going to pay to rent towels for several weeks or months until you can hunt down a new one.
Losing things as a nomad sucks, and if your partner has a knack for absentmindedness, this will drive you to madness. You can prepare for it though. Make sure you have specific pockets in your bag for everything, so it’s easy to notice when something isn’t in its proper place. Also, nominate the responsible party to play guardian of critical items, like passports and medications.
I tend not to lose things, but I’ve created this little checkout list I run through before I depart that at the very least eases my mind.
People who struggle with financial limits don’t actually have a problem managing money; they have trouble living simply and resisting impulses.
Some people leave the money management to the responsible partner. That’s awkward for friends and toxic for lovers. Forcing one person to play parent with the purse strings just invites conflict, and it doesn’t solve the problem.
People with bad spending habits need to grow the fuck up. Myself included. I spend too easily, but I find paying for everything in cash calms the urge. The AmEx might feel like a magic wand that dispenses free money, but forfeiting my cash?! Suddenly everything is too high price to pay.
Try adhering to a backpacker budget before you travel to see how each of you copes and determine what works for you.
You’re both punctual? Great, you’ll be on time everywhere.
You’re both impunctual? I know that’s not a word, but that’s fine too. True, you’ll miss half of your trains, go to bed hungry twice a week and see almost nothing, but at least it won’t bother you.
If one of you lives by the clock and the other doesn’t, one of you will have to cave, and it probably won’t be the late one.
I plan to write a blog post about the psychology of punctuality and cultural norms that surround it, so follow me on social and you’ll see it when I post it.
Having the same orientation as your travel partner isn’t as essential here. Two people traveling together can both be a planner, or one of you can be, or neither, I suppose. It doesn’t really matter that much if either party isn’t too attached to their way.
The key to success here is to talk about it and manage your own expectations.
I’m a planner to such an extreme that I wrote the outline for this site before I began traveling. My former roommate, in contrast, doesn’t keep a calendar. While I’ve had nightmares where my iCal gets deleted, I’m almost certain he thinks iCal has something to do with Weight Watchers.
You might think this makes us lousy travel mates, but it’s the opposite. I over-plan and he insists I chill. We typically arrive somewhere and I have plans laid out like the Easter buffet at an airport Sheraton. He picks and chooses what sounds fun, and at the end of the day we feel like we reached a balance somewhere between faithful pilgrims at Hajj and hungover honeymooners in the Bahamas.
This is actually an honest question. Is your boyfriend a whiny queen who can’t tolerate humidity? Is your girlfriend a prima donna who constipates herself to avoid squat toilets? Is your best friend a wretch when dinner arrives before the hors d’oeuvres? This person is a time bomb. Run.
Fussy people typically have no sense of how high-maintenance they are, so I might be talking about you. If you’re curious, ask your friends at a time of maximum discomfort, like a summer night while you linger near a stagnant body of fresh water. You’ll get your honest answer.
And don’t think that being a pair of equally fussy people is somehow better. Birds of this feather should not flock together. They shouldn’t even flock at all. Whiny people should only travel alone, so they have no one to complain to. A sympathetic ear only enables griping, which makes everyone’s experience worse.
It’s important for you to explain to each person who wants to join you that backpacking is not travel in the style to which they’re likely accustomed. That means fewer taxis, unglamorous accommodations, less shopping and dining that can’t properly be called dining.
If someone wants to share a part of your journey on your terms, that’s terrific. Just make sure they understand it’s your journey, not a vacation. I did this with everyone and was surprised by how willing people were to give up their cliché comforts. I might have even created a couple new backpackers in the process. Score one for the bad kids.
If you’re certain you and your your (in)significant other will travel well, know that your costs may rise.
Few hostels have queen beds in dorms, and private rooms are often more than 2x the cost of two singles in a shared room, so you’ll either sleep apart or pay more. Insisting on private rooms also limits your options and can translate to more nights in actual hotels, which will winnow down your budget even faster.
Is this a pricey outcome? Of course, but it does allow for sex. And that’s awesome.
On that note, while having a special someone in tow is sexually convenient, singles need not despair. Backpackers are marvelously promiscuous, so no one’s libido languishes for long. If the nomadic lifestyle had a tagline, it would definitely be “Come one, come all.”
The circuit is famous for spontaneous romance and “expiration dating,” so you’ll easily find a new boy or girlfriend in each new place. Maybe even one of each if you’re open-minded.
Missing someone is perhaps the unsung secret to a happy relationship — romantic or platonic. To borrow a couple of complementary clichés, familiarity actually does breed contempt, and absence truly makes the heart grow fonder. I have a whole POV on this that’s been blessed by the backpacker couples I know as well as my friends in long-distance relationships.
One even said “Oh yea, [boyfriend] and I do exactly what you said, and it’s why we’re still together.”
Nice to finally give good advice for once.
I feel pretty strongly about the lessons solo travel teaches us. There’s a certain kind of personal growth that can only occur when you closely socialize with people who don’t know anything about you, and it’s literally always life-changing.
Even if you think solo travel sounds awful, read my blog post here and see how you feel about it after.
My privacy policy is simple: I don’t share your information.
Yea, it’s just a name, email and nationality, but I’m sure there are people who would pay for it. My thoughts on that: fuck those people and fuck those fuckers who sell personal information to them. You’ll find none of that monkey business here.
If I get hacked and your info get stolen, I’ll shoot you a note to let you know. I don’t deal in passwords, credit cards or anything like that though, so there’s almost nothing for anyone to take.
To see the full privacy policy — it’s pretty boring and cost me a lot of money — you can follow the link at the bottom of the page or in the confirmation email.
No matter how compatible the companions, I encourage people to split apart periodically; meaning one person goes one place, while the other goes elsewhere.
In life, someone always wants to do something more than their partner does. Hiking, basting on the beach, watching opera, taking museum tours, doing yoga, colonics, Jazzercize, etc., no two people always love everything equally.
The classic solution is compromise, which I find lacks pragmatism and creativity. Compromise literally means one person, in some measure, has to lose. Or, worse yet, both do.
In practice, the person who really loves a particular activity typically convinces the other to join them. Then later, the other person takes their turn and imposes similarly upon their partner.
This arrangement is stupid. You would never do this at home.
Sooner or later, all partners find a reason to keep score, and when one person starts to notice the ink looks a little redder on the other side of their ledger, resentments take root. This can be avoided by splitting up periodically and spending time apart.
If, for example, I went to Croatia, I would undoubtedly want to do the Istrian truffle festival in Buzet. I don’t know anyone who would want to go to such lengths for a fungus omelet, so I would expect that my partner would go see the waterfalls of Plitvice before we reconnected on the boat on Zadar.
Not only would this allow each of us to do something we really wanted, it would give us a much-needed break from the other, and that’s essential.
Separation and solitude are completely reasonable, and co-travelers should never pretend they’re so together that they don’t need them. We all need time to ourselves. It’s why I have nightmares about being a Siamese twin.
We’re all different, of course, so that requirement falls on a spectrum. Some people need a few days alone every couple of months, meanwhile some people need more space than NASA.
Neither makes anyone better or more poorly suited to co-travel. Both parties just have to be honest, which makes the exercise of negotiating co-traveling a therapeutic way to take a relationship or friendship to new heights of openness.
The unconvinced might be delighted to know that separation also comes with a yummy fringe benefit: new stories. When you spend all day every day with someone, you have nothing new to report. Conversations literally grow duller by the hour.
Anyone who’s traveled with a partner longer than a few weeks will tell you having something new to report is priceless, maybe even worth more than an omelet stuffed with truffles.
Domestic American air travel is a racket run by three major companies and a few smaller ones who effectively collude on prices to screw passengers and support their bloated executives and corporate structures.
Even regional jets, which are technically independent, are fucking death traps that I literally never, ever fly.
It’s not this way in other countries, because most people are sensible and see transportation as akin to a public utility. It’s therefore common to find flights on foreign carriers for under $100. I frequently see fares less $50.
Booking far in advance is therefore unnecessary, except of course in places where tickets sell out. Avoid the temptation to book months or weeks out if you’re just trying to save money. Not only will doing so lock you into dates you might regret, you may end up paying. Why? Booking sites now sniff for your computer’s location and display higher prices for foreigners.
Rude, right? Blame the mirror. We invented that.
First, some bad news for most Americans: automatic transmissions are as rare overseas as manuals are in the US. Unless you want to seriously overpay, make friends with someone who owns an old Miata and learn.
Second, anyone who wants to rent a car should obtain an international driver’s permit. This is easy — just 30 minutes at AAA.
When it’s time to rent, don’t get tempted by lower prices with small, local companies. Go with a big multi-national.
Understand your insurance situation through-and-through. Know the limits of your credit card’s automatic coverage and have a printout of the policy. If you can get a translated copy, even better. If you’re still in doubt after all that, just pay for their coverage.
Research the scams. Before you drive off the lot, walk around the vehicle and video record it. When you return the car, do the same. Also record yourself locking it and depositing the key in the night box if you return after hours.
If you get a notice from the rental company later saying you owe for damage or not returning the car, you can send them those videos with an E-vite to go get fucked. You might also copy tourist law enforcement, so they get fined to oblivion.
It’s tricky, but you need to basically study each country’s road laws and signs like you’re getting your student driver’s permit again. Most places have tricky rules, and they love to fine gringoes like us for violating them.
In Cyprus, for example, you can be fined for eating or drinking anything behind the wheel, even a Snickers. In Denmark, you’re legally required to look under your car before you get inside to ensure no one is underneath. In Spain, drivers with poor vision have to carry a spare set of glasses. Dirty cars are illegal in Russia, as is splashing pedestrians on a rainy day in Japan.
In some places, driving is really difficult. I pity any fool who tries to drive in Cairo. You can also very swiftly kill yourself on a German highway if you’re untrained. Driving at 120 MPH is far more complex than simply pressing the accelerator further.
Fare classes are highly inconsistent.
First class in one country is generally different to first class in any other. The same is true of second, third and so on. They vary wildly by country and system.
If it’s fiscally reasonable, I choose first for early mornings and overnights. They really are better, even just for security of your belongings.
The one time I settled for a second-class overnight, I had to physically fight a mouth-breathing Russian girl who was sweating vodka and wouldn’t stop burying her face into my lap to huff my underpants like Whip-Its. I wish I was making this up, but it’s true. I arrived sleepless, angry and ugly. It ruined my first day in Lisbon and I only had five. First class would have been worth the cost. Second class is my usual go-to. For shorter trips or anything after 9 a.m. I go second.
If I want an adventure, I go even lower. Some agents won’t sell those tickets to tourists though unless you insist.
Nomads and backpackers who don’t do the travel hacking thing usually buy cheap flights. Be careful of taking that too far.
For starters, you need to observe weight limits on baggage. In the US, no one gives a shit, but elsewhere they care. The care deeply. Never buy a ticket that forces you to pay weight overages.
Seats are also important, but not for comfort. I never take bulkhead or exit-row seats unless I pay for early boarding. Both offer less (or zero) under-seat storage, so being in a later boarding group puts you at risk of having nowhere to put your carry on — or as you’ll hear them called “cabin bags.”
I’ve even been on a flight where the attendant nearly made me check my personal item. I shut that down by threatening to create a scene and de-board, but I could have avoided it by paying $8 for priority boarding.
Countless people have asked if I used an around-the-world plane ticket for my first trip.
My simple response: Don’t ask dumb fucking questions. Also, no, I didn’t.
ATW tickets are nearly useless. They typically require you to book your stops in advance, so there’s too little flexibility. The fine print is also brutal and changes constantly.
Last time I researched them, the price was based on allotments of miles. The number of stops also changed the equation. All of them required you to choose a direction (east-to-west, for example) and none permitted travel in the reverse direction even slightly. Some airlines even insisted all departures had to occur from the same point as arrival, meaning if you traveled by land elsewhere, the airline penalized your mileage allotment.
I said airline there, but ATW tickets come come from a single carrier. Instead, you buy into an alliance, of which I believe there are still only three. Quite the lack of competition there.
ATW fares do lend themselves marvelously to itineraries where you go to a different city each month and make it the base from which you explore the region. This is something we’ll talk about later when we discuss hub-and-spoke travel.
If you have status with a particular airline, you may want to consider their ATW option — emphasis on ‘may’ — but be warned that flying everywhere robs you of some great experiences.
Domestic American air travel is a racket run by three major companies and a few smaller ones who effectively collude on prices to screw passengers and support their bloated executives and corporate structures.
Even regional jets, which are technically independent, are fucking death traps that I literally never, ever fly.
It’s not this way in other countries, because most people are sensible and see transportation as akin to a public utility. It’s therefore common to find flights on foreign carriers for under $100. I frequently see fares less $50.
Booking far in advance is therefore unnecessary, except of course in places where tickets sell out. Avoid the temptation to book months or weeks out if you’re just trying to save money. Not only will doing so lock you into dates you might regret, you may end up paying. Why? Booking sites now sniff for your computer’s location and display higher prices for foreigners.
Rude, right? Blame the mirror. We invented that.
The beauty of hub cities is the slow pace. How slow you take it will vary according to the number of side trips as well as your pace. If you commit to a month though, this introduces the possibility of renting an apartment. Even if you don’t plan to stay the full 30 days, apartment rental is generally very cheap. It can also make cooking easier, which also saves cash.
Cooking for yourself doesn’t have to mean eggs for breakfast and chicken dinners. You can dial up the adventure full throttle if you sign up for a greenmarket food tour and a cooking class right after you arrive. Not only will you know what to do with the local ingredients, you’ll eat better. Plus if you know what you’re doing, the vendors may screw you less, which will offset the price of the guide.
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